


The Happiness Cell

by Emerald147



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Angst, Death, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Happiness Cells, Made-Up Technology, Mind Control, Multi, Non-binary character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Project Caelum, Resistance, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald147/pseuds/Emerald147
Summary: Jeremy was nothing special. Sure, he could hack into pretty much anything but that was easy - no reason to be getting ominous emails or for his parents to force him into getting a Happiness Cell. But here we are.





	1. Chapter 1

There was something in the air. Maybe it came from a young child who had died, or many, all who suffered the same fate – or perhaps it was just the ambiance of the broken-down and abandoned workhouse. What with the gradual changes places like that were hard to find. Nothing lingered anymore, everything always felt empty. Even with the horror that hung in the air a sigh of relief could be heard; it echoed. A dripping sound could be heard, it's rhythmic tapping almost infuriating.  

 It was dark. Not actually dark – the light was always somewhere. But the lack of windows did alter that slightly and the gravity of the truth wouldn't let even light escape. It wasn't cold. Nothing was cold anymore but a chill of a different kind whispered through skin and bone. A radio hung limply between fingers and a strange crackling sound shuttered through the speakers.  

"Howdy folks! My name's Jimmy Nevax and I'm here to tell you all about Project Caelum. Project Caelum strives towards a brighter, happier future. All it takes is one appointment with us and we can get you checked out with a clever little piece of tech we call the Happiness Cell. It may seem a little scary, but all this little beauty does is block the negative emotions by attaching to your brain and messing with all the naughty bits that make you sad and angry. Just thing about how much better your life could be all wi-"  

 The radio lay broken on the floor. The speakers smashed and the metal shell dented. A few wires hung out a small crack in the casing. Heaving breathing punctured the silence. It was the only sound.  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"I don't believe it." 

"I do, it's exactly the kind of thing he'd pull." 

"I wish you were wrong." 

"You know I'm not" 

"...I do." 

 _I hadn't meant to. It was an accident. Well, maybe not entirely an accident but it wasn't meant for them, and it was only_ _self-_ _defenc_ _e_ _. How was I supposed to know that it was actually_ _his sibling's laptop and not his own?_  

"Have you heard about that... thing that they're selling now, for people... like him?" 

"Yeah, I've heard of it. A few of my colleagues got one. But it almost seems too good to be true." 

"Well I'm sure mobile phones used to seem too good to be true but here we are." 

"I guess. I'll look into it, maybe it can help." 

"Hopefully." 

Jeremy wished he didn't know what they were talking about. He did, everyone knew about it since Davey.  _I swear to God if they get me a happiness cell I will just leave_. Sure a few kids in my school had one but all of them moved away immediately. Davey didn't. Davey was never the same. Sure, he was happy, no false advertising there, but it really just made him a target – what bully wouldn't go for someone who'd never fight back? Hell, Jeremy had hacked his laptop a few times myself - just for practice, he removed it all afterwards – not that it wasn't tempting to leave a few bugs still there. That's not to say there aren't a few keys that don't make cat pictures pop up ( _I_ _never claimed to be a saint)_. Of course, Jeremy didn't think it was Davey's fault, because it was the bullies – that's the reason the whole thing hadn't been shut down. Eventually he moved away, to somewhere that was pretty much run by people with happiness cells. Jeremy hadn't heard from him or his family since. No one had. He crept away, minding the third and seventh step. Jeremy knew he only had a curfew so his parents could fight at a set time and so they wouldn't have to worry about him hearing. Jeremy nearly always heard. It used to bother him, but he couldn't care less anymore. Neither of them meant much to him anyway. 

By the time he reached the door to his room he had a whole new list of steps and places to avoid as the floorboards pretty much shifted under Jeremy's feet. As much as he didn't want a happiness cell, he kind of hoped at least one of his parents would. They wouldn't be able to keep paying for the house if one of them didn't get a promotion soon and no one would dare promote someone who 'wasn't safe'. The happiness cell may have only been around for a year or so but it pretty much determined whether or not you'd be hired. 

Jeremy pushed open his door, not letting it swing to far or it would squeak. He was silent as he weaved his way around the noisiest floorboards and scattered possessions. Jeremy checked his watch, 11:23; too early to really sleep. A step or so away from him lay my hacking hoodie; the rich blue hoodie was a staple of his, and incredible soft. He pulled it on. Humming some obscure melody that was half made up softly, he pushed open his laptop. 

"Alright Dimitri, what are you up too tonight?"  _I don't think I'll ever forgive Dimitri for, well, pretty much everything he's ever done._  He rubbed his right arm slightly, the phantom pain flaring a touch. After Dimitri accidently left his phone out a few days ago, Jeremy figured out his password, got access to his phone and went from there. For Jeremy, it was actually pretty fun, seeing how many of his electronics he could get into (turns out he has  _two_  laptops). Jeremy never outright left any bugs on anything, but he did know this little trick that could allow him to see Dimitri's screen. Some nights he actively went in search of bleach but sometimes he'd find the best things.  

One of the best things Jeremy ever found was a poem about how he wasn't allowed a new pair of shoes. It was written so despairingly too, as if those shoes Dimitri wasn't allowed could hold the cure for cancer.  

He glanced at the time stamp in the bottom corner, 11:34. Dimitri wasn't on, his screens were turned off. It shouldn't be surprising, despite how spoilt he is there was never any question on what time he was in bed. So, he punched out a few codes, seeing if he could make anything new, wrote a few notes in the small, leather-bound notebook he made sure to always keep close by, and folded up the useless notes that were more scrawls than anything into little hats. Jeremy's strange skill in origami came from boring classes before he learned how to use his phone in lessons without getting caught. He still used that little distraction technique sometimes because he'd hate to think what could happen if the school realised he was recording security camera footage. It wouldn't have ended well at all.  

Bored, he ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as his hand got caught in about ten different knots, there were times when Jeremy loved his long hair but sometimes it caused great inconvenience. He checked his watch, 11:59. He decided to go to bed, tiredness causing a haze around the edge of his vision. Jeremy changed quickly into his pajamas but kept his hoodie on to fight the constant cold. Jeremy slid under the covers, shuffling minutely to get comfortable.  

Jeremy hardly slept that night. His mind overflowing with images of Davey's complacent face as he tumbled and fell down three flights of stairs. Images of Davey's complacent face as his food was taken from him even though it had happened for five days in a row. Images of Davey's complacent face as the meager amount of money he had on him was taken and then fought over right in front of him. Jeremy knew he wasn't involved in any of those incidents but he still felt guilty. That guilt, however, was entirely over shadowed by fear. Fear that his laptop would get taken and he'd happily give over the password if asked. Fear that the few friends he did have would leave him because he wasn't useful or even interesting anymore. Fear that he'd be alone and hurt and oblivious to it all because he was still happy.  

He tossed and turned, sheets half of the bed by the time the sun emerged from the horizon. His hair even more of a mess than it was before and his hoodie twisted, the hood somehow managing to end up inside the hoodie itself instead of resting on his back. Rubbing his eyes, Jeremy dragged himself up making a mental note to fix his sheets that he knew he'd ignore later. He checked his watch, 10:48. After finally falling asleep at 6:37, Jeremy couldn't be happier that it was a Saturday and wouldn't have to drag himself through school – not to mention the detention he'd get for being so late if he did have school.  

Shoving open the plain cream curtains, Jeremy squinted as the low sun assaulted his eyes; his pupils shrank and the rich green of his eyes nearly overtook the pupil. His hand shot up to cover them. Dropping his head and turning away from the obscenely bright light, Jeremy half walked half fell onto his chair and pulled himself closer to his desk. Sighing, he got up again, crossing the hallway to the bathroom that was fortunately directly opposite his room. He stumbled lethargically through his morning routine of brushing his hair (not that it really helped anything) and brushing his teeth before stripping and turning on the shower. Jeremy let it run a while, letting the water warm up. After a minute or two, he stepped under the weak spray of the water, letting it wash away the awkward feelings in his muscles after the restless night he faced. His thoughts wandered and came to a rest on the overheard conversation between his parents. It was a foolish hope but he hoped nonetheless that they wouldn't actually consider getting Happiness Cells (if Jeremy was getting one there was no way the rest of his family wasn't). Harshly scrubbing at his skin, Jeremy tried to push his doubts out of his head and instead worry about the maths test that he hadn't revised for. He didn't even understand what they'd been learning that term, a small program he'd create did all the work for him.  

Halfway through his inner conversation about ways he could cheat, the water suddenly ran cold and he jumped slightly. Shivering, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in his towel. He quickly dried himself, trying to rub warmth back into his limbs. Simply putting his pajamas back on he glanced in the mirror, sighing when he realised that he looked just as disheveled as before. He gave his hair one last hopeless brush before giving up and heading back to his room, sitting down once more. 

Pushing open his laptop, Jeremy's fingers logged on though muscle memory alone. A small notification popped up in the bottom of Jeremy's screen and he stared at it in partial shock.  _No one ever emails me_. Sure, he'd gotten a lot of spam but he programmed his laptop to never notify him of that. It wasn't a school email, those had their own way of notifying him (read: blaring sirens). Just before he opened it he checked to see who it was from and the subject, just out of curiosity. His brow scrunched slightly in confusion, he'd never heard of 'Project Eleutheria' before and it seemed a bit odd that they (whoever  _they_ were) were emailing him. The subject was blank.   

"Jeremy! Come downstairs, me and your Dad want to talk to you"  

"One second, Pa!" Jeremy yelled back, internally cursing his English teacher as he mentally corrected his Pa. Jeremy checked the time once more (10:58) before closing his laptop gently, fixing as much of his bedraggled appearance as possible and sprinting downstairs. He cursed slightly under his breath as he realised he didn't have a hair tie so he couldn't even pretend his hair wasn't a mess. Slowing as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he walked into the kitchen. His Dad and Pa were waiting at the small, round table, their faces unreadable.  

"Morning Jeremy." Jeremy opened his mouth to reply but he was cut off, "I- we were both wondering if you're doing okay, what with, well- it's just-" his Dad sighed, took a breath, and started again, "Most boy's your age would be, well, out more, see friends more often – or at all. We just, I guess, want you to be, you know, happy" Jeremy was used to his Dad stumbling through sentences, so he understood. He also wasn't going to throw a fit because his parents 'didn't understand him', he liked to think he was more mature than that. He was also very good at reading between the lines. 

"No." 

"What do you mean, Jeremy? We haven't even asked you anything," it was his Pa this time, his face vaguely concerned. 

"You want me – if not all of us – to get Happiness Cells," there was a harder edge in Jeremy's voice. 

"We want what's best for you, that's all," his Pa's voice remained calm. 

"Well this isn't it," Jeremy tucked his hands into his pockets, assuming his defensive position. 

"No way, I'm not having some weird technology implanted in my brain. Besides, it's taking the easy way out, not solving anything."  

"This isn't an easy way out, it is a solution, a way to help all of us. I know you're worried about being bullied but we'd move and you could join a new school – one where the students all have Happiness Cells of their own. Please, Jeremy, just think about it," 

"No," Jeremy turned to walk away, finality woven into his tone. He could hear his Pa calling after him but he ignored the shouts. He wasn't getting a Happiness Cell, nothing was going to change his mind about that. He knew his Dad and Pa only wanted what was best for the family but he was the type of person to take an easy route out if he thought it would help them look like a normal family – his obsession with having the ideal family wasn't new. When Jeremy was younger, his Pa would take him to a play group every Wednesday despite Jeremy hating it. He only stopped going when he had to go to school. Jeremy knew that, back in the kitchen, his Dad was calming his Pa down and that he probably shouldn't talk to his Pa for a day or so, or at least until his Pa had calmed down entirely.  

Jeremy trudged back into his room, not bothering to flick on the light's because the sun had flooded through the window and there was no need for any more light, Jeremy preferred the dark anyway. He checked his watch, 11:19. He collapsed into his chair, tired. Jeremy's eyes flickered up to his laptop screen and came to rest on the small notification still sitting in the corner of his screen. Sighing, he opened the email, deciding that it couldn't hurt, besides, he had already set up about eight different malware blockers so this mysterious email couldn't hurt his laptop. As his eyes scanned the page, confusion swept through him, along with shock, and a tiny smudge of excitement. 

 _Dear Jeremy Samson,_  

 _My name is Liam Grey_ _and I'm emailing you on the behalf of Project Eleutheria._  

 _We are dedicated to stopping Project_ _Cae_ _lum_ _and shutting down all production and use of Happiness Cells. I have been asked to email you with an offer. We would like for you to come and work with us._ _Un_ _fo_ _rtunately_ _, we are not a legal company nor will we pay you. This is not a great way to_ _int_ _rodu_ _ce_ _you to our aim but I will not lie._  

 _Through means you need not concern yourself with, we have become aware of_ _your_ _skills with computers and codes. This is a skill set we lack within our operation and we would be ever so grateful if you would consider our offer._  

 _It is our belief that the Happiness Cells are damaging human_ _expe_ _riences_ _and emotions. Surely you have noticed how complacent anyone who has a Happiness Cell becomes, how they mostly do anything they are told. This is dangerous, it makes us a perfect he_ _rd and we cannot allow that to happen. There will be no free will._  

 _I am not asking you to leave your family, many of_ _our supporters still live with their family and see them_ _every day_ _. Of course, this is entirely your decision and we shall not force you, but you would be a great asset to the Project._  

 _Please consider this carefully before answering._  

 _Yours,_  

 _Project Eleutheria_  

 _P.S. Once you've read this I must ask you to delete this properly, I'm sure you know how._  

Jeremy was speechless. He was slightly concerned as to how they had tracked him but really that wasn't his biggest concern. Really, it all seemed a bit to big – he was only 16! His voice was still breaking for God's sake! It wasn't even noon and Jeremy had just been asked to join some kind of resistance against Project Caelum as what? Their IT guy? Forcing himself to breath a bit more evenly, he tried to reason with himself.  _Of course_ _they'd want me, I am_ _good_ _at what I do, besides, I can't save the world or be a part of an operation_ _against_ _an_ _oppressive_ _regi_ _me_ _, I'm not a teenage girl in a_ _si_ _-fi novel._  

"Stab me," was the most eloquent phrase Jeremy could think of in that moment. Shaking his head, Jeremy re-read the email to see if he missed anything, though he was hardly reading it, his eyes ever so slightly glazed over as he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. After reading the short note at the end, he quickly went about deleting it properly, making sure it couldn't be revived. It gave him something to do while his mind was still panicking slightly. Jeremy checked his watch, 12:09.  

He closed his laptop quietly after the email was deleted. Still not having quite processed the information yet, he sat silently in his chair, contemplating whether or not he should even answer at all. There was still no way of knowing if it was a joke or not, maybe one of his classmates got a hold of his email? Jeremy knew that wasn't possible, He had a separate email for school and no one, not even the people who were as close to friends as he could get, knew his email. He always kept that private and no one could find out, he had defenses against anyone finding his email that would never fail unless someone unpicked them one by one; Jeremy knew no one in his mediocre school could do that. It also made him wonder why they needed him at all if they got through his defenses. Logically, he knew that getting through defenses was one thing, but being untraceable was another. Flipping open his laptop, he ran a trace on his most recent email, it didn't matter that it had been properly deleted, Jeremy could still trace it due to it simply being on his computer. It worked, so they did need him. He could make himself untraceable.  

He checked his watch, 12:41. Jeremy sighed, it was only midday but he already felt drained. Deciding he should probably get changed out of his pajamas, he pulled out a clean T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of boxers. Jeremy changed quickly, used to late mornings and rushes to get places on time. His t-shirt was plain blue and his jeans black, he never cared much for wearing interesting clothes, whatever was comfy and plain worked fine. Once dressed, he grabbed a plain red hoodie and slipped into his worn trainers and grabbed his phone and keys from the piles of papers that took up all remaining space on his small desk. This time moving much slower, he walked downstairs and out the door, plugging his headphones in as he went. 

The autumn air was crisp and sharp, the low sun free to shoot into his eyes as the sky was nearly cloudless. Jeremy almost regretted not bringing sunglasses out with him but couldn't be bothered to go back to get them. Jeremy started walking. Really, it was the most exercise he did, but he didn't care. His lungs burned slightly from the cold and his eyes were squinted under the glare of the sun but he was content. Turning slightly so he wasn't walking towards the sun, he ambled down the road, steps matching the rhythm of his music that was playing ever so slightly to loudly in his ears. Feeling slightly childish, he kicked up a few leaves that were in his path, breaking the silence with harsh rustling and crackling. Despite it being 1:23pm Jeremy knew quiet roads and ally-ways that probably weren't all that safe but he relished in the near silence that couldn't interrupt his music. Occasionally, a car of two would sweep past him but that was the extent of the interruptions. Jeremy enjoyed walking. Usually he'd feel cold when walking, something that had put him off walking in the colder months but his hoodies kept him warm and that meant he could walk all year 'round. The cold bit slightly at his face, his nose especially, but he had grown used to that and, despite the numbing feeling in his nose, could quite happily deal with it.  

Jeremy never planned his walks, he just never strayed from the quieter roads and enjoyed his escape from some of the pressure he felt at home or at school. It was the best he could get and it was his second favorite thing do, messing with codes and the like coming first. His steps were even and measured as he walked in time with 'Walking on Sunshine', one of the songs he's loved since he was five. A faint smile was ever-present. Jeremy came to a stop outside the local park, debating whether or not to go in, it would be busy considering how nice of a day it was but there was a small path that no one ever took that he could go down to be alone, and the plants were beautiful there – albeit a touch bare considering the time of year. Jeremy checked his watch, 1:56. A small groan from Jeremy's stomach settled the whole debate immediately, he hadn't eaten anything all day, the argument with his Pa stopping him from having breakfast and he hadn't had lunch yet. Shaking out of his musings, he started walking back home, his pace faster that it was previously and he had to catch his earphones a few times as the fell out due to his fast pace. His eyes never noticed the usually imposing trees swaying as if drunk on the wind or the leaves that continued to fall as if mimicking snow. He never noticed the flock of birds that rushed over him nor the ragged looking stray cat that darted across his path.  

Usually, Jeremy could walk for hours, but he was incredibly hungry and had to cut his walk short. If he had remembered to bring money with him he would have bought lunch (though probably not something that could really count as lunch) from a shop somewhere but it wasn't the end of the world. He took back routes and shortcuts that he knew from years of wandering around the small town he lived in and arrived much faster than if he hadn't taken said shortcuts. He pulled out his keys from his pocket and shoved the key he needed into the lock forcefully turning it as it wouldn't unlock any other way. It should have been surprising when the email snuck into his thoughts but Jeremy knew his brain, there was no way he could have made it through the day without it appearing again. 

It remained constant in his mind as he shuffled into the kitchen. Jeremy was glad to see it empty, not quite ready to face his parents yet. The strange email swung around in his mind as he grabbed some bread and cheese, making a haphazard sandwich out of them. It was simpler than usual but Jeremy had other things on his mind. He chewed slowly as he tossed about a few idea's in his head, on the one hand, he was wholly against Happiness Cells and definitely wanted them gone; one the other hand, joining a resistance group? It seemed so extreme and Jeremy did not like the extreme. That was why he mostly stayed inside, away from others, unless he was walking. Even then he never talked to anyone. He just wanted a somewhat normal life without the whole drama about Happiness Cells.  

Jeremy finished eating, took a square or two (or five) from the cupboard (he knew it probably wasn't the best, but he didn't care), and traipsed upstairs, double-checking his list of places to avoid as he went. He closed his door behind him gently, thoughts still a whirlwind in his head.  


	2. Chapter 2

Two days after the email, Jeremy walked downstairs to find his parents standing by the door, strange expressions on their faces that he couldn't decipher. He slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs, confusion creasing his brow. Jeremy checked his watch, 3:17. He rested an arm on the banister and stared questioningly at the two people he was used to being able to read but now couldn't.

"Jeremy, we're going out, put your shoes on," that only confused Jeremy further, an odd feeling swirling in his gut as he continued to stare at his Pa, who wasn't usually so commanding, "Jeremy, I don't have time for any of your nonsense. Hurry up," Jeremy's Pa's eyes were hard and glittered like a rough sea, swirling and dangerous.

"Jer- just, come on, then, please, I- we need to, get- we need to go," it was the hint of desperation in his Dad's voice that snapped him out of the cocktail of emotions swirling through his mind and Jeremy jumped to grab and shove on his shoes and run back upstairs to grab his forgotten hoodie, ignoring the angry sigh behind him. As he pulled on his hoodie, all the while stumbling back downstairs, his parents had already gotten into the beaten-up car that was hardly ever used. That alone worried Jeremy, they never took the car, preferring to use public transport than waste money on the upkeep and batteries for the car. He didn't question it, however, and simply ran out into the driveway, pulling the door close behind him. Jeremy winced as he heard it slam but he didn't stop until he was sat in the backseat. Only then did he allow himself to breathe. 

Jeremy wasn't stupid, he knew his parents were probably taking him to get a Happiness Cell – to get them all Happiness Cells – but the tone of his Pa's voice had frightened him. He was usually pretty soft spoken and, yes, commanding, but also considerate of other peoples' wants and needs so the finality in his tone scared Jeremy slightly. The whole thing scared Jeremy. He might have acted as if he didn't care but the thought of getting a Happiness Cell terrified him. He buried his hands in his pockets, pulled his hood over his head, ducked his head low into the body of his hoodie, Jeremy tried to stop a few tears from over flowing. Dread spiked through him and an abject hopelessness became a lump in his throat. Usually he had a better grip on his emotions but something  _in his brain controlling his emotions_ was pushing his limits. Jeremy felt his breathing get heavier and a dance of worry passed through him for an entirely different reason. He hadn't had a panic attack for years but the writhing ball of something in his gut sure felt like he was on the edge of a cliff and tipping. 

The car raced down the road, edging the speed limit and not slowing. Jeremy sat in the backseat, still wrapped in his hoodie, his unkept hair framing his face; he looked like the picture of misery with red eyes and his usually rich bronze skin pale and sickly. A weight hung around him, as if even gravity was trying to pull him away. He wished it would. The silence was thick and muddied as it curled around the car, making time drag and words feel broken, no dared to say anything. Everything about the situation felt polluted and wrong and Jeremy felt himself tilt further over the edge. He knew how to help himself get through a panic attack, no one had ever helped him before because they mostly happened at school and no one there cared enough, but he just couldn't muster up the effort so his shallow breathing filled the car. It was the only noise in the silence. His Dad had a concerned expression on his face but for all his worry and care that was the furthest he'd ever gone. His Pa was driving, no distractions. Besides, to him it was just another reason to get a Happiness Cell. 

Jeremy desperately tried to suck in more air but his lungs already felt full with anxiety and there was no room for oxygen. His sickly skin became slightly red as he lost air but due to his tucked head and hood, it wasn't visible.  _Stop this Jeremy!_ _You_ _can't get away from this situation like this, can you?_ His internal monologue started to encourage his mind out of the panic,  _Now, five things you can see. My hoodie_ Jeremy's eyes darted upwards  _the seats_ _in front_ _of me, and old coffee cup that really shouldn't be there, magazines in the_ _slee_ _ve_ _on the seat in front of me, and.... a map under the seat. Good, four things_ _you can_ _hear. My own voice in my head, my parents whispering in the front, the car, and that motorcycle that's passing us. Good, three things you can feel. My hoodie, my hair tickling the back of my neck, and the seat underneath me. Good, two things you can smell. Whatever's in that coffee cup, and petrol. Good, one thing you can taste. Chocolate._ It was a strange coping method, but Jeremy separated the panicking part of his mind and the logical one and used the standard technique to help himself back onto solid ground. It works as per usual, and Jeremy could feel his breathing become steadier and more even. He still felt like shit but slightly better now that he had overcome his panic attack, though he could still feel it lurking at the edges of his conscience. 

The soft yet harsh whispers coming from his parents made Jeremy cringe, he knew it wasn't his fault they were arguing but it felt like it. Maybe if he had just been happy none of this would need to happen? And did he really need to have a  _panic attack_ over it? He'd still be himself, just happier and less aware of all the problems in the world. Who wouldn't want that? Jeremy tried to reason with himself, anything to try to convince himself it wouldn't be the nightmare he dreaded. Jeremy checked his watch, 4:21. He ran a finger over the smooth face and traced the odd markings on the rim. He had bought it at a charity shop but no one knew what the symbols on the edges of the face meant. They swirled and twisted along the rim, each groove slightly differing, the once bright gold still stark amongst the silver. The leather strap was rough with wear and cracked slightly. Jeremy spun the watch slowly around his wrist, feeling the aged leather and the back of the sliver face brush against his skin. It was grounding.

The rest of the drive passed by in blurs of colours in the edges of Jeremy's vision, nothing perfectly clear, but nothing unseen. He sat in silence, fiddling with the hem on his hoodie and his watch in irregular intervals. They pulled quietly into the small car park outside the equally small clinic that was probably bigger than it seemed. Jeremy's Pa near slammed his door when he stormed out, standing solid by the car, glaring. It crossed Jeremy's mind that maybe a Happiness Cell would be good for his Pa, he seemed so angry lately – it was new development. Huffing out a sigh, Jeremy's Dad pulled open the door that Jeremy ignored, and coaxed him out of the car. 

"Jeremy, we- come on, we need to- have to get- go inside," Jeremy was silent as he climbed out of the car and the door closed silently behind him. Jeremy checked his watch, 3:58. His eyes felt sore, so did his throat; he didn't say a word. The doors were automatic and they slid open silently. There were no colours, except for pale, cold blue and white - not even a bright white, but a dull colour that easily disappeared in a person's mind. Nothing was memorable, there were no pictures on the wall, only posters for the Happiness Cell that at least added some pale yellow to the forgettable palette of the clinic. Whoever sat behind the desk was smiling, it didn't look fake, it was in her eyes too and all over her face. It was real. But it felt wrong, like she'd never had a reason to smile, so the odd twisting of her lips was foreign and new, strange in its rarity and uncomfortable. Jeremy ignored it. He kept his head down.

 Her words were clipped and short, each sentence heavy and weighted. Jeremy glanced around, mostly letting her words float over him, preferring to observe the other desperate people who had gathered like some morbid sacrifice. Everyone was quite – because it was a precious moment and the silence held whispered promises of better things, or a resigned silence, one that made time unpredictable and unsteady, a minute sometimes a second, and sometimes an hour. Jeremy felt out of place, with his hot anger and defensive posture. He was hit with the harsh smells once he finally noticed the thickness in the air. Disinfectant, the pungent smell of iodoform and mortality; while there had yet to be any reported deaths during the operation, the smell was unique to clinics and hospitals and there never could be one without it, sterile and overpowering, healing and hurt. To Jeremy it reeked of the possibilities that the small, nondescript clinic hid. It made Jeremy squirm. 

 Suddenly, he felt a hand close around his wrist, guiding him over to the chairs. The carpet muffled their footsteps. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy could see someone walking towards the waiting area, their steps measured and precise, yet perfectly ordinary. They wore a white doctor's coat, opened slightly to reveal a plain, pale blue shirt – matching the dull aesthetic of the scene. Their coat was stainless, pure white and stark against their skin. Jeremy turned slightly, curious. They looked incredibly young, definitely no older than 18, so Jeremy had to wonder what they were doing – as there was no way they were a doctor. 

 "Jeremy Samson?" Jumping minutely at the unexpected noise, Jeremy looked up at the sound of the stranger's smooth voice (he had to wonder where they came from, as there was an odd lilt to their voice that sounded almost American) and waved awkwardly, not wanting to speak because he was pretty sure he couldn't trust his voice. He stood when the doctor (nurse? Surgeon?- no, definitely too young) nodded at him and slowly started to walk towards the –  _probably too young to be a doctor now that I think about it –_ nurse (Jeremy's best guess). 


End file.
